Star-Born Mage

by David Estes

  So close, and yet it was obvious it was too far. They spun again, and Vee eyed the rig’s position. Two more revolutions, perhaps three, and they would collide. Perhaps a minute away. “Frank!” Vee shouted, craning her neck to see past Miranda.

  “Sorta busy here!” the cat returned. He was clinging to the ropes, which were twisting around and around, slowly tying him up. He was fruitlessly struggling against the momentum, his small paws helpless.

  Vee scanned the deck, spotting McGee slinking along one wall, jets of magic firing from each hand to keep himself steady. “Magic!” she called, and his eyes darted up to meet hers. “Can you get Minnow to the control podium?” She knew the big man would struggle to walk, much less stay on his feet as he crossed the distance. More so, she knew Magic McGee would be more likely to destroy the control ropes with his unpredictable magic than free Frank. She would need both of them working together to carry out her plan.

  Thankfully, McGee nodded and changed direction, heading for where Minnow was still strapped into his jumpseat. “Minnow, you know what to do?”

  “I’d rather blow something up,” he said. “But yes. I know. When you take a hit, hit ’em back.”

  “Good.” Vee turned away. She knew she needed to trust them now. The rest would be on her.

  The starship spun, whipping past the star-rig, which was so close now. Too close for comfort.

  “Verity,” Miranda said. “What are you—”

  “This,” Vee interrupted, cancelling her last uncast spell and tracing a new glyph on the powerful mag-cannon’s spellscreen. It was of a complicated design but considered a high Class 3 or low Class 4 conjuring. Fuse.

  Miranda’s entire body stiffened beside her as she recognized the spell. “You can’t be serious.”

  They came out of their next spin and the star-rig was right there, its flank a massive wall of magium-coated steel that could punch them into the next star system if Frank, Minnow and McGee didn’t carry out their end of the bargain.

  They spun closer. Hurry, hurry, c’mon, c’mon… She snuck a peek back down into the control room. The entire bulk of Minnow’s body was hovering off the floor, jets of blue light pouring from beneath his hands and feet, connecting with McGee’s fingertips. Amazing, Vee thought, watching as her friend reached the control podium, where he immediately grabbed the ropes and tore them away from Frank, who dropped with a yowl to the floor, clinging to one of the ropes to stop himself from tumbling away.

  Minnow said something, and Frank yelped something back and then the Minot’s powerful hands were straining against the ropes, twisting them back into straight lines and then shoving one to the side, in the direction of the star-rig, where—

  Vee whipped her head back toward where the steel side of the rig was mere seconds away from smashing into her cannon, which poked through the electromagnetic field.

  And she pulled the trigger.

  The purple fire that leapt from the cannon’s maw was different to the usual flames meant to destroy. These flames were of a different temperature, shorter and more precise, washing over both ships as, once more, they smashed into each other.

  Vee’s head ratcheted off Miranda’s and both women cried out, but Vee refused to release the trigger, not until she was certain her goal had been accomplished.

  T-minus one minute, the A.I. said. It was already farther than Vee had expected them to get, which meant they had a fighting chance. She hoped Minnow had given them enough momentum to straighten out both ships enough to keep them inside the hovertube.

  “Layla! Status!”

  T-minus thirty seconds. Two kilometers from hovertube wall. As the crow—

  “I don’t give a damn about the crow flying!” Vee said through gritted teeth. The ship was shaking violently now, the edges of the hovertube wall scraping against the side of the starship, starting to rip metal panels off and fling them out into the void.

  Rude, Layla commented. T-minus fifteen seconds. One kilometer from complete demolition and certain death. The A.I. almost sounded excited by the prospect.

  Vee released the trigger, hoping she’d done enough—that they’d all done enough.

  Ten…nine…eight…five hundred meters…five…four…one hundred meters…

  There was a blinding light of many colors—red, orange, yellow—and Vee could feel the heat radiating through the ship, hot enough to make her sweat through her suit.

  Three…two…ten meters…one…

  There was a sucking sound and Vee’s ears popped as she was thrown forward, the single harness strap cutting into her shoulder as they emerged from hyperspace into a field of stars, none of which, thankfully, were streaking past.

  “Holy godstars,” Miranda breathed.

  Vee looked at the Centaurian. “My sentiments exactly. Everyone all right?” she shouted down.

  “Urgh,” Minnow said. He’d skidded across the control room and crashed into one of the banks of screens. One of them had cracked and was smoking from the side. Tucked protectively under one arm was Frank, who was mewling softly like a kitten. Under the other arm was Magic, who seemed to be sleeping, the buzz-saw of snores emerging from his half-open mouth. Minnow managed to raise a thumb in the air. All good. “Hit ’em back,” he said, echoing Vee’s command from earlier.

  Vee took a deep breath and slumped back in her seat. Speaking of which…all she could see through the electromagnetic field was the tip of her cannon, which was soldered to the side of the star-rig. Her fuse spell had worked to perfection.

  Essentially, they were one Frankstein-like ship now.

  Great, Vee thought. This should be interesting.

  She unclasped her harness.

  Chapter 38

  Godstar VII

  Dacre still wasn’t sure how they’d survived the hypertube. Somehow Vee’s starship had pulled out of its spiral at the last moment and accelerated into them with just enough force to change their trajectory. There was a bright purple light—Vee’s magic channeled through the mag-cannon—and then the two ships had locked together, stuck fast.

  We made it, Dacre thought, realizing he’d never really expected it. All along the way he’d expected to be caught. By Miranda Petros. By the Alliance. Decapitated by a many-mouthed monster or incinerated in an explosion. Against all odds, however, they were here, in Godstar VII, where his journey had begun all those months ago when he’d struck a deal with General Kukk’uk, Supreme Leader of the Jackal—no, Cir’u’non—forces.

  A deal predicated on a foundation of lies.

  The general clicked something Dacre’s implant couldn’t translate and shoved him off, the creature’s claws punching holes into his skin.

  Clay Coffee, who was still strapped into his jumpseat, said, “That was close.”

  Dacre stood, dripping blood. The Gremolin mag-weapon had survived the collision better than the rest of them, still locked into place. A med-bot missing half an arm rolled over to him and began to work on his injuries, applying antiseptic ointment and healing salve before wrapping each scrape with a cooling gauze.

  The general ignored him, staring at the main viewscreen. Home, she clicked.

  The planet known as Jarnum was about as inviting as a headless monster with a dozen mouths. It was barren gray rock, mostly flat but occasionally broken up by thin, tall spires. Cracks in the ground issued plumes of gas. A purplish light pushed its way around the edge of the planet, illuminating more and more of the surface as the local godstar came into view, a half-lidded lilac eye.

  Shadows moved across the eye. Ships. Hundreds of them.

  The Cir’u’non had arrived.

  Dacre feared for Verity.

  ~~~

  “Not good,” Frank said. He was back at the control podium, though the ropes didn’t seem to work anymore, the engines not powerful enough to maneuver both ships now that they were locked together in a strangely intimate embrace.

  The viewscreen showed hundreds of Jackal ships racing toward them. There were several starshi
ps, dozens of fighters, one enormous refueling tanker, and one mighty shield generator.

  There was also a towing frigate, which backed toward them with a huge, magnetic clamp attached to a long arm. The clamp eased toward the hull of the star-rig, attaching with a loud clank that reverberated through both ships.

  The tow-frigate’s engines fired, and Vee felt their direction change slightly.

  “Not good,” Frank said again.

  Miranda said, “What’s our play?”

  When did I become the leader of this operation? Vee wondered. The entire time, she’d resisted Miranda’s attempts to control everything, but now that the Centaurian deferred to her she found herself wishing there was someone else to make the decisions.

  “Wait and see,” she said. She felt suddenly drained. More than that, she felt the urge. To inject aura directly into her bloodstream. To drink and drink and drink until it ran down her chin. To bathe in aura, to swim in it, to drown in it.

  She hated the feeling as much as she loved it.

  Miranda said, “Here,” and handed her a vial.

  Vee hated that the woman could sense what she needed, but that didn’t stop her from uncapping the vial and drinking deeply, sighing slightly after she’d swallowed. Minnow did the same, his face melting with pure pleasure. Thankfully, her addiction had been satisfied by the carefully measured vial rather than using the straw in the mage’s seat, otherwise she knew she might not have been able to stop drinking.

  When she’d finished the last drop, she felt evened out, her head remarkably clear. “When they come for us, don’t fight back,” she said.

  Miranda said, “Then what?”

  “There are thousands of them. We can’t win. But we might still have one chance to stop Dacre from firing the weapon. You’re a class 5+ mage, right?”

  Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “Yes…”

  “And you can cast a spell without a mag-rifle, right?”

  “Yes, but it won’t be powerful enough to do any real damage.”

  “That’s fine. It doesn’t have to be. We just need a distraction. Between you, the cat, and Magic, it should be enough.”

  “What about me?” Minnow asked.

  “I have another plan for you,” Vee said. “Here’s what I’m thinking…”

  ~~~

  “Don’t hurt them,” Dacre said to Kukk’uk. “Or I won’t use the weapon.”

  As you wish, Kukk’uk clicked. It won’t matter once it’s done.

  “And you will let them go afterwards.”

  The general’s beak snapped together with a clack. I will send them on auto-pilot back into hyperspace. Satisfied?

  It’s not what Dacre wanted, not really, but it was better this way. Anything would be better than what the Centaurians were planning. My people. “Yes. That will suffice.”

  They were approaching Jarnum, and soon he would need to strap into his jumpseat for landing. Now, however, he ran his hand over the Grem weapon, getting a feel for its design, for its curves and edges. He touched one of the numerous spellscreens, which was glossy, having never been used. His fingertip left a print, which he wiped away with the edge of his shirt.

  Still, in that moment of contact, he had felt something raw, humming below the surface. A technology the likes of which the galaxy had never known. The Gremolins, with their ancient understanding of magic, had created something beautiful and destructive. Something with the power to channel magic and then amplify its power across great distances, much the same way the Grem’s had formed a glyph from their own bodies back on Urkusk. Though that attempt to stop the Demonstrous had failed, Dacre knew his own could not.

  He turned away from the weapon and took his seat.

  “What are you going to do?” Coffee asked him.

  To Dacre’s surprise, the man’s presence had a calming effect on him. He was solid, even-keel, steadfast. And yet he had no idea what was coming.

  “What I must,” Dacre said.

  ~~~

  The frigate entered Jarnum’s atmosphere, towing the two-headed ship behind it. Vee’s jaw hurt from grinding her teeth together. Her plan felt right, but she could still see a dozen places where it could go wrong.

  Not the least of which was the fact that the Jackals might shoot first and ask questions later.

  And then it would be over.

  She was trusting Dacre to protect them from his winged friends. She had to believe it was he who had severed the rig’s control ropes and saved their lives back in hyperspace. If so, maybe he wasn’t so far gone as to bargain for their lives again.

  If so, there was still hope.

  Hope to stop him from making a grave mistake.

  The ships shook as they blasted through the thick, vaporous clouds created by the fumes rising from the cracked earth. It was a wonder that such a harsh and ugly planet would hold the galaxy’s largest aura reserve, watched over by a race that didn’t have the ability to use the substance for anything but a crude form of poison.

  If the godstars were truly once all-powerful gods, why would they have chosen this place for their blood to flow? All it had ever done was create strife between the Alliance and the Jackals. These were just a few of the mysteries that made it impossible for Vee to believe in such nonsense.

  Random. It was all random. No one was watching over them. No one cared what happened to them. They were the masters of their own future, weren’t they?

  For the first time in her life, she wasn’t certain.

  The frigate dragged them down, down, down, finally levelling out as they approached a makeshift airfield, the terrain smooth and free of cracks. Criss-crossing beams of green light darted out from metal pylons positioned on each side and they eased to a stop without touching the ground.

  Frank said, “Nice tech.”

  Miranda raised her mag-rifle and said, “There’s still time for a change of plans. We can go in firing, take a couple hundred Jackals with us.”

  “Feel free,” Vee said. “But you’ll be doing it alone. All your traitorous soldiers are dead. This is my ship with my crew. Not even your pilot is loyal to you, not after what you did to him.”

  Miranda raised an eyebrow. “It was only a suggestion. I’m with you, whether you like it or not.”

  “I was afraid of that. Frank, stay here.”

  “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” Frank muttered. “Where’d you put my catnip?”

  “Out an airlock,” Vee said.

  “Buzzkill,” Frank said.

  “I need you clear-headed if we’re going to pull this off.”

  “Fine,” he huffed, licking one of his forepaws. “I’ll have my comms on. I might be asleep though, I can’t help my constant level of drowsiness. A cat’s life and all that. Shout if you need me.”

  “Will do.” Vee looked at Minnow and McGee. “You ready?”

  Minnow nodded. “With you, boss.” McGee picked dirt out from underneath his fingernails. He was a wildcard, but she had to trust him as her mother once had.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 39

  Build it

  It was strange watching his old designs take shape into something tangible, real, something he could reach out and touch.

  Tramone had to admit, despite the gravity of the situation, he found himself enjoying every second. It was like being trapped in one of his stupid games playing the role of the hero. Only the hero wasn’t a mage, wielding mag-blades and spells to defeat evil as he sought to collect prime artifacts on some quest that would allow him to level up. No, in his story, the hero was a simple but intelligent man with big ideas.

  “Let me do it,” he said now, interjecting himself into the work on the chip board. Though the Alliance techs he’d been assigned were reasonably capable and efficient, they weren’t as precise as he was. Even the smallest imperfection in the machine might render it faulty, and there wouldn’t be time for testing.

  Speaking of which…as soon as he’d connected the chip to the board, he gl
anced up at the clock that showed the countdown. Six hours, twelve minutes, five seconds. He felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head. All thoughts of heroism and saving the galaxy abandoned him.

  This is no game, and you’re a damn fool, he thought. His hand quivered as he pulled it back from the board.

  “Status, Tech Tramone,” the Archchancellor said, striding up. She’d been conversing with the pilot while he and his team had worked. The longest part of the flight was to get near enough to the hyperportal for the star system, a journey that would take a quarter of a day.

  Tramone’s mouth was suddenly dry and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a sip from the water canteen provided to him. “I—I—”

  “Breathe,” AC Martin said. “We have another two hours before we can make the jump.”

  Two hours? Could he make it? He took that deep breath. “We are nearly finished. We’ll make it.” The words felt good to say, even if he was only fifty percent certain of their truth.

  The AC smiled. “Good. I knew you were the right man for the job.”

  Her confidence gave him confidence. He sipped his canteen slowly as she walked away. The numbers on the countdown ticked ever lower. He watched them for ten long seconds, more to convince himself that they weren’t speeding up than anything else.

  Then he clapped his hands, forced as much command into his voice as possible, and said, “C’mon. Phase three. Outer shell. Chop-chop.” The techs got to work on the exterior of the mag-launcher while Tramone supervised, giving advice and orders from time to time.

  All the while, the clock ticked ever lower.

  Chapter 40

  Jarnum

  Cir’u’non swarmed over the star-rig, checking its systems, scrubbing it down, and inserting an enormous tube that would add the vessel’s payload to their aura reserves.

  Kukk’uk glanced at Dacre and clicked, As promised, we are here. Our liquid aura is yours to command. Don’t waste it.